Young Voice
Francis and Ester
Francis and Ester roamed the cemetery. They stopped at every grave where people are visiting. They gave out pieces of paper where words that cause horror are written. They uttered phrases of fear that could cause you goosebumps. They reminded the still breathing relatives that sooner or later, they will be the ones to be visited in the cemetery.
No, they are not angels of death. They were estate agents. The pieces of paper they gave out were brochures of the lots they are selling. Those phrases of fear weren't revelations of the end; they were negotiating words gearing towards the selling out of their products.
Francis and Ester were reminders that a lot has changed since the previous commemorations of All Souls Day. In the colonial times, the friars were the only ones who sold lots in the cemetery. There were still no sign of existence of any ancestral lineage of Francis and Ester. The flower shops and boutiques weren't flourishing as they do now. People settled for freshly picked flowers along the sides of the kalesa-trodden streets. The day for the dead was strictly observed as a commemoration rather than a celebration. There were no food stalls and fun booths that made the memorial parks a carnival ground. There were no magic shows nor fireworks display; those days were usually quiet and solemn. But, I believe the respect and worth of such day wasn't diminished. The dead are still special from the time of Padre Damaso to the time of Francis and Ester. Though the tributes are at different ends of the rope, the very thought of remembering the dead still remains.
Each family had its way of paying tribute to their dead. Some thought they might as well have a family reunion along the way, and a food festival while they're at it. Tons of plastic wares filled with Pinoy food favorites made the cemeteries similar to a food convention. Some erected tents and brought some folding beds, sleeping bags and native mats to transform the cemetery into a camping site. Some kids freely roam at the large field of the memorial park, with some trinkets of light they wave along side, morphing the place into an amusement center. It was a feat for the eyes; it wasn't a day just for the dead. Everybody felt the day was a gathering of both our kind and those in the other dimension. There was a variation of party ideas for every visiting relative, each had their own gig, and each had their own way remembering the dead. But, there will always be a time when every one kneels down in front of the gravestones and hush a simple prayer; this is in itself the very meaning of the day.
This is life. There will be only just one part of our existence where we get to change what was used to be, where we get to feel the pain necessary to feel the joy, where we get to realize the importance of life earlier than when it is gone. That part, is neither when we were born nor when we die, but when we are living. I am afraid of death; a lot of us are. Even if our faith promises us a life after death, we still tremble at the thought of dying. That is why everybody exercises, takes medicine, and does everything to slow the gaining of profit for Francis and Ester.
We have to savor the moments; to live like no one has lived before. Because we will never know, the next year, the next All Souls Day, we will be the ones visited.
Continue to live.
(For comments and reactions please send an email to reylangarcia@yahoo.com or SMS to 09186363090. Visit my blog at http://www.theyoungvoice.blogspot.com)